


Breaking Up

by sherlock221Bismymuse



Series: Snapshots of Two Lives Entwined [11]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Happy Ending, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mild Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-07
Updated: 2019-04-07
Packaged: 2020-01-06 02:55:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18379508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlock221Bismymuse/pseuds/sherlock221Bismymuse
Summary: Those mixed up molecules of the cologne Sherlock used and the regular after shave Greg preferred to splash.Who would have custody of those molecules?





	Breaking Up

Sherlock and Greg had an epic fight.

One of those lovers’ squabbles that escalate till no one can really remember what it was actually about.

Sherlock had been shaking with rage at the end of it and simply stormed out and left.

When he didn’t come back that night something broke inside Greg.

He sat there waiting anxiously and finally close to midnight he reached for the phone to text an apology. He couldn’t remember what or who had started the fight but he was going to end it.

This was Sherlock! The love of his life! The sociopath who had fallen in love with him. The man whose Transport had made sweet love to him. The genius brain that had tried to learn his favourite recipes so he could cook for him on Sundays.

But just as his fingers touched the phone it buzzed. Sherlock!

He opened it in anticipation and felt a yawning pit open up in his chest when he read it.

{Send all my belongings over to Baker Street. SH}

He sat and looked at the phone till the glow faded. He tapped it again and read it, in increasing disbelief.

He got up in a daze and went to the living room.

Sherlock’s belongings?!

He looked around. His ‘Compendium of Unsolved Crimes’ that Sherlock had read way more often than he had. Who would that belong to? Those world map cushions he had bought on sale years ago and which were now Sherlock’s favourites to keep under his head as he sprawled on the sofa and read at night. Who did they really belong to?

The music they listened to and did an impromptu dance, sometimes slow sometimes silly. Just because they could. Just because the happiness at being together would bubble up sometimes and it needed touches which were not always about sex.

Would he be able to listen to any of those when alone? Should he listen to them when alone, if those memories belonged to Sherlock?

He went to the kitchen to get a glass of water. He drank and looked around.

The special pan that Sherlock had bought so that he could cook oil free food for Greg. Who would that belong to? If he had to use it to cook for himself now, would anything ever taste the same?

That silly salt and pepper shaker they had bought together because it had a pot- bellied cop and a grinning thief in an embrace. Who would that belong to?

That space in the cupboard that was set aside for the chocolate digestives and other sweets that Greg had been stocking up, without any discussion, ever since Sherlock moved in with him. He kept it far away from his own age-appropriate bran and quinoa and other sad stuff so as to resist temptation.

So, would that shelf now stay empty? Would it still belong to Sherlock in all its glorious emptiness?

He walked back to the bed room with heavy feet and took a deep breath. Those mixed up molecules of the cologne Sherlock used and the regular after shave Greg preferred to splash. Who would have custody of those molecules?

He opened the cupboard and looked at the clothes. That faded Doctor Who T shirt that he had bought at ComicCon but which Sherlock wore almost every night. His logic was that Greg bought the T- shirt because he liked what it said, so wouldn’t it be more logical for the T shirt to be in front of his eyes than over his own chest. That had made perfect sense.

_We are all stories in the end. Just make it a good one, eh?_

Greg touched it and felt it, soft and loved and heavy with memories. Love. Togetherness. Sharing.

He smiled.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow morning he would do what Sherlock wanted.

.

.

Sherlock slammed the front door, stormed up the stairs and burst into 221B angrily.

He stopped abruptly when he realized that Greg was sitting there.

Greg stood up as soon as he saw him, hands in his pockets. He had not taken off his jacket.

“What are you doing here?” Sherlock snarled.

Greg gave a tentative smile. “You said to bring over everything that belongs to you.”

He spread his hands, as if to say, so here I am.

Sherlock blinked. His face crumpled and he almost fell into Greg’s arms.

“Don’t ever ever do that to me again!” He sobbed.

“Shh shh.” Greg said soothing him, not wanting to remind him that he was the one who actually physically left.

After all, it didn’t really matter did it?

They could leave each other’s physical space, but not each other’s hearts.

Never each other’s hearts.

.

.

Greg gave him a tissue to wipe his eyes. Then he grinned and said “Marry me?”

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “I already did, remember?! Just take me home now.”

“Git.”

“Idiot.”

.

.

Mrs. Hudson was peeping from her flat door and saw them walking down the stairs hand in hand, even lip to lip, which was making the climbing down a bit difficult but it made her giggle. Oh these boys would be the death of her one day!

She decided to break open that bottle of Cointreau that she had kept away for a special occasion. She hadn’t slept all night ever since she had heard Sherlock storm his way back in, alone and banging the doors and the violin playing.

Good heavens. It was enough to make the Devil weep.

Of course Mycroft knew at once and had alerted her that it might be a danger night and that he had re-activated all the cameras in the upstairs flat.

So now she raised her glass in a toast towards the fireplace where she knew he had a camera on her too. He had never actually said so but she knew a trick or two herself.

She wasn’t surprised at all when her phone pinged the very next minute.

[Cheers to you too Mrs. Hudson! Perhaps both of can get some rest tonight! MH]


End file.
